You're My Thrill
by Ellsee89
Summary: One hundred glimpses into the lives of Shelagh and Patrick Turner, past and present, in no particular order.
1. Energy

A/N: I had the good fortune of catching _Call the Midwife_ on Netflix and PBS this past week, and like most of you, I'm perfectly obsessed with the relationship between Shelagh and Patrick. At this point, I trust Heidi Thomas' story implicitly, so I've decided to do a sort of "fill-in-the-blank" 100 word prompt of images, past and present, throughout their time together. These are in no particular order, and are of no specific length. I really hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: _Call the Midwife_ and its characters do not belong to me. I only wish to play with them for a while.

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**1. Energy**

Three days after she arrived, they were introduced.

It was an early Tuesday morning; her very first antenatal clinic since taking her initial vows and settling into life and work in Nonnatus House.

"Sister Bernadette, a word?" Her new superior, Sister Julienne, beckoned her through the waiting area and past an already fully-formed queue of mothers and children. "You may scrub-in and sterilize your equipment here," she gestured through the window of a small, yet neatly organized kitchen. "But first I'd like you to meet-"

The strong, distracting scent of tobacco immediately filled her nose as she followed Sister Julienne through the vinyl curtain. The source, Sister revealed, was a tall, middle-aged man with clever eyes and untidy dark hair.

"Dr. Turner, allow me to introduce our newest postulant and recently-qualified midwife, Sister Bernadette. She's just arrived from her nursing assignment at the London and will begin her duties today."

"Ah, yes, I heard we'd be welcoming reinforcements," With a slight stumble, the doctor snuffed out his cigarette and reached for her hand, "How do you do?"

"Very well, thank you. Anxious to begin," she replied eagerly. The doctor beamed.

"That's precisely what I like to hear."

Unused to such frank kindness following two years of competitive training at the London, Sister Bernadette blushed readily. "Thank you, doctor. I do hope to contribute as much as I can."

"No doubt you will."

From there, the long day began, and as it continued well into the evening, Sister Bernadette found that her energy never waned. Each patient was a new story; a new life and a new beginning. Even her most trying cases held more promise than any she had encountered during her training. Though she made sure to carefully assess every detail with calm professionalism, she quickly became enthralled with her task. For the first time since before the war, her heart felt full.

"I recognized it when we met, you know," Dr. Turner sought her out later, another cigarette in hand, hair wholly mussed, "You're a perfect fit here."

"Today was most invigorating," she replied with a smile, completely unable to stem her excitement. "I've never experienced anything like that before."

"I once had a mentor who told me that work like this, in a place like Poplar, was a young man's game," he ran a hand through his hair subconsciously. "I'm no longer a young man, but I still can't imagine practicing anywhere else." He took a long, final drag of his cigarette before carefully extinguishing the end against a tray and wiping away the evidence with a sterile cloth. "I think this work requires a different kind of energy."

Through the window, Sister Bernadette watched as her elder colleagues, Sisters Evangelina and Julienne, weaved through various patients with the ease of practice and constant fortitude. If either felt their age, their eyes and respective dispositions betrayed nothing.

Dr. Turner caught her glance and smiled. "Glad to have you aboard, Sister Bernadette."


	2. Flowers

**2. Flowers**

"What was your mother like?" Patrick asked one morning over breakfast, two weeks after their wedding. Struck by the directness of his inquiry, Shelagh frowned.

Before she passed away, Shelagh's mother kept the most beautiful garden. Each year, as soon as spring's warmer promises filled the air; her mother donned her largest hat and retreated into their backyard to spend hours weeding overgrowth and gently coaxing her carefully planned bulbs out of the earth. By the very height of the season, their backyard would be covered in colorful, fragrant flowers.

It was the perfect sanctuary: a tranquil spot to enjoy tea and sandwiches as a family, and the only place her parents ever entertained guests. Shelagh remembers hot summers happily sprawled outside in the grass with her mother, watching her diligent work, playing with dolls, and learning to ride her first bike. Once, at the tender age of six, Shelagh announced that she wanted to be a princess for the day. She and her mother spent the rest of that morning plaiting Shelagh's blonde hair with bluebells and building daisy chains for her only subject: their reluctant family dog. Occasionally, her father would join them to read the paper with a cup of tea and several Henleys. On warmer days, she can still smell the lavender and tobacco mingled in the afternoon humidity.

After caring for her family, gardening was what her mother loved most. Though Shelagh never had the opportunity to get to know her as an adult, age and experience left her with the impression that she and her mother had much in common. They both treasured life in all its beauty and complexity; Shelagh with nursing, and her mother with gardening. This shared passion was a small comfort through several motherless years.

"I have very few memories of her that don't involve flowers in some way," Shelagh responded honestly, "I was a little younger than Timothy when she died."

"Flowers?"

"Yes, she loved to garden."

Patrick tilted his head in an uncharacteristic display of uncertainty. "Do you think she would have approved of me?"

Shelagh smiled and took a deep breath, inhaling the lingering scent of roses from the bouquet he had given her the previous evening.

"Darling, I think she would have loved you."

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A/N: Thanks for reading! And if you're enjoying so far, please review. :)


	3. Sunset

**3. Sunset**

After the festivities of baby Fred's christening died down and Timothy was safely enjoying tea with the younger nurses, Shelagh and Patrick escaped Nonnatus House for a little alone time. Hand-in-hand, they strolled toward the river, each lost in the weight of their news and the happy tidings of days past.

"I'm still having trouble believing any of this is real," Patrick confessed as they found an unoccupied bench on the water. Timidly, his hand found the side of her cheek. "I keep expecting you to change your mind."

Shelagh leaned into his touch, laughing softly. "Don't you think we've had enough deliberation to last a lifetime?"

"Oh, of course," he squeezed her hand, eyebrows knit in pensive reflection. "I just don't think I'll ever believe a tired old man like me could ever deserve someone as lovely as you."

She faced him then, blue eyes filled with all the love circumstance never allowed her to show. Behind them, the sun began to set over London, and Shelagh quietly admired the waning light twinkling off her engagement ring. "I was so frightened, you know, in the Sanatorium," her voice caught, but she knew she needed to continue. They both deserved the peaceful reassurance her time away had granted her, "And not just because I was sick. I kept thinking that if I didn't recover, I wouldn't be able to tell you how much I love you."

"I love you, too, Shelagh. Very much." His voice was soft, but there was a hunger in his eyes that she recognized from the first time he kissed her hand. Months ago, those same eyes had broken her resolve and forced her to question every expectation she had ever held for herself. At the time, her habit and wimple had covered her physically, but his eyes seemed to consider her very being. It left her naked; exposed. Somehow, though years of religious dedication had buried her soul so far beneath the surface, this singular interaction had managed to find her deepest sense of self.

Not for the first time, Shelagh thanked God for all that he had given her.

"I've loved you for a long time. I just never thought any of this…" Patrick shook his head, stopping his train of thought. "Would it be all right if I kissed you?"

"I think it would be markedly less all right if you didn't."

Slowly, they leaned toward each other, lips meeting in a culmination of many months' worth of longing. In that moment, all the desperation, uncertainty, and doubt endemic to their lives up to that point seemed to disappear.

When they finally pulled apart, the sun was down. And as they made the short journey back to Nonnatus House, their smiles matched unabashedly.

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A/N: Just a quick thanks to anyone who's left a review. This is just a little pet project of mine, but I'm enjoying it tremendously!


	4. Formality

**4. Formality**

Patrick Turner always found it amusing when Jenny Lee struggled with convention. Though he knew four years of working closely in a professional setting were not so easily forgotten, he was unable to hide his mirth when she awkwardly addressed him as 'Doctor Turner' despite her place as an honored guest at their wedding reception.

"I think you can safely call me Patrick today," he had replied kindly. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught his radiant bride stifling a giggle. Neither Trixie nor Cynthia, standing just behind a flustered Jenny, made any attempt to disguise their laughter.

"You're offering your congratulations, Jenny, not asking for his professional assessment!" Trixie's exclamation quickly dissolved into a fit of laughter as she and Cynthia practically carried the horrified Jenny away from the newlyweds.

"I suspect this will take some getting used to," Shelagh mused with a playful squeeze of his hand. "The nurses don't really know you without your title."

"She didn't seem to have any problem calling you 'Shelagh.'"

"Jenny was raised with a certain level of decorum and propriety. Don't you remember her first days? We assigned her to Conchita Warren."

Patrick grinned at the memory. "Her face was stark white when I met her. I thought she was about to leap out of her skin when Mrs. Warren refused to allow the doctors anywhere near her baby.

His wife had smiled warmly then, and not for the first time, Patrick was distracted by Shelagh's peaceful attitude and the practical way in which she dealt with others' perception of their new status. That her wedding gown accentuated certain features not normally on display did not help matters, and with a gentle hand against her waist, all thoughts of Jenny Lee and her rigidity were immediately forgotten.

As the days turned into months and their status as "newlyweds" quickly evolved into "husband and wife," Patrick noted that though Nurse Lee was one of the last of their colleagues to fully adapt to their union within her social sphere, she was eventually able to let her guard down in their company.

When Shelagh announced that she intended to have Nurse Lee attend to the birth of their first child, however, Patrick was truly taken aback.

"Are you certain that's best?" said he, bemoaning his wife's confusing and slightly worrisome choice. "Surely she wouldn't be entirely comfortable in that position?"

"She's already said yes, Patrick, and I want her to be there. If she didn't feel capable, I don't think she would have agreed. Social awkwardness aside, Jenny is the most efficient midwife I know."

Patrick shook his head in disbelief. "She can barely make a joke in our presence, and you want her to deliver our child? What about Sister Julienne? Surely she's the more logical choice?"

"She'll be there as well." Shelagh's hand rested gently against the small swell of her abdomen. Beneath the fabric of her own nurse's uniform, their baby had only just begun to make its presence known. "I've asked them both for their help when the time comes."

Patrick sighed in defeat. He knew better than to argue with his wife when she made up her mind. Her judgment was so rarely misguided.

When the day finally came, Patrick found himself in a position he once thought he would never relive. Shelagh's contractions had begun in the middle of the night, and in line with their shared medical opinion, the midwife was summoned around noon that same day; when the pains became too close together to delay the inevitable.

Sister Julienne and Nurse Lee arrived in record time and were immediately updated on Shelagh's progress by a nervous Patrick. With a lingering kiss against his wife's warm, slightly-pale forehead, he was customarily ushered out of their bedroom.

"Don't worry, Patrick; we're taking excellent care of her," Jenny Lee met him some time later on her way to the kitchen in search of hot water. In an uncharacteristic display of kinship, she touched his arm. "She's doing so well." Though he was touched by her reassurance, Patrick could only nod and resume his silent vigil in the sitting room beside Timothy.

As the day wore on, Patrick's anxiety heightened drastically. Despite his intimate knowledge of the trials of labor and delivery, the time spent waiting grated on his very being. In the last hour, his wife's cries had grown louder, waking Timothy from a nap and lending absolutely nothing to Patrick's fortitude.

"She'll be all right, dad?" The boy asked, rubbing his eyes drowsily.

"Do you remember what Sister Julienne told you the other day? About Shelagh?"

"She told me not to worry and said it would sound a lot worse than it really was."

"That's very good advice," Patrick chuckled, silently reassured by his colleague's wise words.

Upstairs, however, the bedroom opened with a resounding creak and Patrick's heart jumped to his throat. "Doctor!" Nurse Lee called from the top of the stairs. "A word?"

He leapt off the sofa and sprinted up the stairs. On the landing, his unbridled fears met the Nurse Lee he knew best: stoic, professional, and impossible to read. But all at once, her façade dissolved into the most genuine smile he had ever seen on Jenny Lee's face.

"Are you ready to meet your daughter, Doctor Turner?"

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A/N: I'm sorry for the slight wait, but I'm hoping the comparative length of this drabble makes up for it! Once again, thank you so much for all of your reviews!

Another quick aside: this moment is one of few that I plan to explore from several different angles and perspectives throughout the story. New life is such a pivotal aspect of _Call the_ _Midwife, _and I intend to reflect that here. And don't worry, their little girl's name will be revealed in the next installment! :)


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